Oubliette
by Cricket Tealeaf
Summary: Third installation in my series of fics. See Fractured and Know Thy Enemy. Life inside the mental hospital. Chapter 9 now up
1. Chapter 1

Spencer sat up, wrapping his arms around himself, having woken from the usual nightmare. In times like these, it was difficult to leave the dream behind and return to reality.

_It was just a dream. You're awake now, _he told himself. But his heart still pounded in his chest. He took several long, slow breaths trying to calm himself.

After awhile, he got out of the bed and turned the lights back on. His shirt had stuck to his skin, from a thin sheen of sweat. He pulled it gently away.

He went outside the room. He would hear about this in the morning but he would worry about that then.

"Can't sleep," someone asked. Bree Keller, a sixteen year-old, also having a delusional disorder.

"I keep having nightmares," he admitted. "What time is it?"

"I think, like two in the morning."

He nodded and turned away.

"Wait," she said.

He glanced back. "What is it?"

"I was at the machine and it gave me two of them by mistake," she said, proffering a candy bar.

"Thanks," he said, accepting. He thought briefly of Georgia and that she would disapprove being overtly obsessed with his health. He almost laughed, it didn't matter. Of all the things that he had done lately and he was worried about her reaction to chocalate. Besides, he'd probably seen the last of her.

"Wandering," she asked.

"A little. My life's been a whirlwind lately. I'm still not sure how I got here."

"I know the feeling. Oh...yeah...I broke into Tony Vincent's loft and waited there...naked for him," she said, with a short laugh. "I'm pretty sure that's what did it."

_How do I respond to that? She laughed, maybe I should. But that might insult her. If I don't respond, it may insult her anyway._ She was watching him closely. Like him, she probably longed for the reassurance that she _was_ sane, hoping that whatever was misfiring in her brain would resolve itself and she could go back to a semi-normal existance.

"I used to watch him perform and I just loved him. You know, he was just so wonderful and perfect. I started to think that he was doing it just for me. That he wanted me the way I wanted him. And," she laughed again, "when he found me in his place and called the police I thought that he was just playing hard to get or that he was afraid that I was a minor. I mean, it was so real. He had to be in love with me, didn't he?" She looked up at him. "Doesn't that sound crazy?"

He held up his hands. "I'm in here too."

"Yeah, but you didn't do anything nuts like that." She shook her head. "The whole thing with him, it just felt so real."

"I'm not sure I'm the right person for you to be talking to. Some of the staff-"

"Am I bothering you," she interrupted.

"What? No. I just...I'm in here too. My life's a mess too. There are others here that are in a better position to give you advice."

"I'm not looking for advice. And the staff just doesn't understand what this is like. They can say they do but they don't really get it."

"It wasn't the same for me, though. My insanity took a different form."

"I know. But still..." She spread her arms. "You get what this is like. This place. Being here."

"Yeah I know what thats like."

"Thats why I wanted to talk to you. And not only that. Even some of the other patients, they look at me like I'm completly nuts, when they find out what I did. But you don't."

"My mother had...issues. I look at what she went through, what I went through and know its not for me to judge."

"So I'm guessing she did some pretty crazy stuff."

"Sometimes. And I know how easy it is to let your imagination get the best of you. I thought my coworkers were trying to ruin my career."

She frowned. "And they put you here for that? It was only after I...did something even more..." She broke off, looking nervous now.

"It's a little more complicated than that. But you've probably already guessed."

Her eyes went wide. "Oh! Like that lady in 316 that poisoned her husband and his girlfriend? Did you hurt somebody?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I did." Now it was his turn to look uncomfortable.

"Oh,um...we've been out too long already. They'll probably be on top of us in a minute."

He nodded again. "Yeah, I'm surprised they haven't already."

She went around the corner. After watching her go, he waited there for just a minute before going back in his room.


	2. Chapter 2

"How can you play by yourself," Bree asked, softly. She leaned closer to watch the game. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose?"

Spencer shrugged. "Some of the medication dulls my mind. I'm trying to keep myself sharp."

"Yeah but I still don't get it. Aren't you supposed to play with another person."

He looked over at her. "Do you want to play?"

"I don't know how."

"I'll teach you sometime. Chess isn't a game, anyway. It's a careful strategy. You have to outwit your opponent."

"So...how exactly do you outwit yourself? That's what I don't get."

"By thinking like your adversary."

"Oh. No, I still don't get it."

"You will," he said, simply.

She watched him, waiting for him to elaborate, but he seemed absorbed in the game. She held her hand up and looked at wonderingly, "Have I turned invisible?" She let it fall back, glancing at him again, and rolling her eyes, irritably. "I guess so."

Not even the arrival of a third party could draw his attention away. "Well, not much has changed, apparently," the newcomer said. Bree looked up at her. "I'm Penelope Garcia," she said, cheerfully, sitting beside Bree.

"Yeah, he mentioned you. He said he worked with you." She lowered her voice. "So he really is a G-man?"

"Yeah," Penelope said, looking surprised at the question. "Did you think he was making it up?"

"No. It's just that so many people here say things and they actually believe them but it turns out it's hardly ever true."

"Alright, I guess I can buy that."

"If you don't mind can I ask what happened?"

Penelope sighed and didn't answer right away. "It's a stressful job."

"You know, I can hear you two," Spencer said, finally entering the conversation.

Penelope brightened once more. "I knew that."

"I guess I'll just leave you two. I have to go straighten my room, or Rycroft will have a fit. He'll send the goons in to do it for me and they _always_ take something," Bree told them, standing up and hurrying back to the building.

"I see you're enoying the fresh air. That's good."

"Sunlight therapy. It's been proven that UV rays can alleviate symptoms of depression. In fact, most physicians believe that it is the lack of exposure in winter months that leads to the condition known as Seasonal Affective Disorder."

"Yeah, nothings changed," she said, with mock-annoyance.

"I'm glad to see you too, Garcia."

She rolled her eyes. "Who wouldn't be?" She playfully slapped him on the arm. "So how is it?"

He shrugged. "I can't say I'm exactly happy to be here, but it's okay as far as these places go."

"Oh, sweetie, it's only for a little while."

"I know."

Her mood seemed to dim, and he felt a twinge of guilt. "Look, Garcia. I'm not upset with anyone, especially not you. You guys just wanted to help me. I know that."

"Is it?"

"Yeah, I'd say it's definitetly helping. I feel better than I have in...I don't know how long."

"Oh thats great! You're getting better then."

"Well, I wouldn't say getting better but the medication is helping. That's a trap alot of people with...my condition fall into. But I won't let it happen."

"But still it's something."

He smiled at her. "Yeah. I'm not so stressed out atleast."

She touched her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness, I've been so worried. You locked up in here, and us not being able to visit like we want. But look, you have a friend, and you're feeling good. You have no idea how happy I am." Tears welled in her eyes. "Oh here I go getting all emotional."

"Garcia, you're embarrasing me," he teased.

She laughed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.


	3. Chapter 3

A strange thing is memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow-Anna Mary Robertson Moses

_I was told if I couldn't talk about it to write it, and so I am writing._

_Even this is a difficult task. _

_I actually saw little and remember even less, the majority of the crisis remains locked away in my brain. This being bad enough, I dread the day the rest comes to light._

_I remember there was smoke and fire. People talk of chaos and I suppose that the event would have been the closest thing to it. _

_Three people died in the attack. They shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have been involved. I have done my best to make amends to the families but it will never be enough._

_I don't know the details of the attack. Of the how and the why my knowledge is sadly lacking. And yet if the other members of my team know anything they remain tight-lipped on the affair. _

_One small building was completely demolished by the explosion. A second partially so. _

_It makes little sense. Devins, Mass? Why there of all places?_

_It stands to reason that the team was the target to begin with but given the location it seems almost absurd that it even should happen._

_Devins is too small to make any real impact._

_The senselessness of it continues to baffle me. _

_Why did it happen? What was the point?_

_But JJ and I were seperated from all of that. In our own little private bubble. This could be why certain other situations between the two of us have transpired._

_It was only the two of us in that little space and nothing else seemed to make a difference._

_I would have spared her the anguish of it had I only been able. _

_The truth is that I would have died a complete man at that moment. You see, it wasn't the bomb, or any events immediatly preceding it that tear at my soul. _

_It was the evidence of my irrevocable and incomparable failure to her._

_It seems irritational that this should be the thing that continues to plague me. Atleast to me it does. I imagine that the others would agree if only they knew the source of my grief. _

_After all, JJ suffered far less damage than I and aside from severe emotional disturbances immediatly following the event has recovered remarkably well. So there's no logical reason for me to feel the way I do about it._

_But they say that the mind works in mysterious ways and so it seems does the heart._


	4. Chapter 4

"This is bullshit," Rycroft said, throwing the paper in the trash.

Spencer stared at him, shocked. "What?"

"You're wasting my time. And yours. I thought you wanted to get better. I thought you wanted out of here."

"I do want that. I did what you told me to."

"Wrong answer."

"Well, please, tell me what it is you want me to say."

"Get out of my office."

"What?"

"I told you to write, to get things off your chest and this is what you bring me. Obviously, you are not serious about wanting to recover."

"I'm not serious-on what grounds do you-"

Rycroft stood up and glared across the room at him. "Leave now. Come back when you've done something productive. Otherwise, don't bother."

Spencer left the room, half in a fury. He let the door slam behind him and he kicked the far wall.

One of the nurses was in the hallway. She eyed him with suspicion. "Alright, you do that too much around here and you know where they will stick you. Might even pick out a special jacket, just for you too," she warned.

"What I want to know is how the hell did he get his license? Talking to me like that. Oh, I'm not taking things seriously. Doesn't he know what I've been through," he seethed.

She shrugged and went back to her work, shaking medications into small cups.

* * *

Sunday morning rolled around. Spencer stretched out on a couch in one of the small den areas, with a heavy blanket thrown over him. He was reading through a huge text on the Asian continent, taking notes every now and then on a notepad.

Bree was sitting crosslegged on the floor, also under a blanket.

Outside it was gray and rainy, as it had been for a few days now. The dampness seeped into the building.

On top of that, the facility was on lockdown. One of the patients had somehow left unsupervised and strangled two joggers. Now, everyone else was paying for it.

"Did you know that the name Bangkok is incorrect?"

"Huh?"

"The true name of the village is Krung Thep. It means City of Angels."

"Like Los Angeles?"

"Yeah. Except that's only the abbreviation. The full name is nineteen words, consisting of 152 letters and 64 syllables."

"Wow. That's fascinating."

"I know. Despite the length, most natives are able to recite it by heart."

"No, I meant, that it's fascinating how much free time you have on your hands to know these things."

He shrugged and went back to the book. "I've decided to take up anthropology as a new major."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I haven't decided on Cultural, Social or Linguistic. Maybe I'll look into all three. And then there is Archaeology..."

"Och, you're making my head hurt. You collect like most people collect postage stamps."

"I'm fascinated with the human condition. Anthropology and Archaeology are part of that. I've already studied Psychology, Sociology and Philosphy so why not? Besides, I think this place will drive me crazy if I don't find something to do."

Bree shook her head and gave him a strange look. "Oh...it's not so bad being crazy. I went mad for awhile, did me no end of good. I decided I was a lemon for a couple of weeks. I kept myself amused all that time jumping in and out of a gin and tonic. I found a small lake that thought it was a gin and tonic, and jumped in and out of that. At least, I think it thought it was a gin and tonic. You may be interested to know that I am single handedly responsible for the evolved shape of the animal you came to know in later centuries as a giraffe. And I tried to learn to fly. Do you believe me?"

He gave her a blank look, displaying his confusion at her rambling. "What?"

She was smiling at first but then that slowly faded as he wasn't following. "Oh...it's a quote. From a book. Ford Prefect-Life, the Universe and Everything. I thought you would know it."

"Oh. I haven't read that one."

A touch of red colored her cheeks and now embarrassed, she went back to reading.


	5. Chapter 5

_They were lifting him on to a backboard. "Purely precautionary," one of them assured him._

_He blinked once trying to watch them. It was difficult for him to track their movements. Things began to blur together. He tried again to sit up but this time was strapped tight to the backboard. "Just relax," someone said. "Don't move."_

_One of them stabbed something into his chest. A moment of panic and confusion followed but his mind quickly reasoned that this was a chest drain. He found suddenly he could breathe again. He nearly cried with the relief of it._

_Someone kept speaking to him in a soothing manner. He caught sight of Hotch again, climbing up into the ambulance just before the doors were closed._

_Hotch..._

_He closed his eyes, sensing the acceleration of the ambulance. He let the movement of it lull him. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of the sirens switching on._

He opened his eyes, returning suddenly to wakefullness. Just as he had before he sat up, but someone pushed him back down. "Not so fast."

"What happened," Spencer asked, although he was sure he already knew.

"Grand mal seizure," Dr. Keets, the resident physician, told him.

He closed his eyes again. "I'm so tired of this. I want it over one way or another."

"Yeah? And that's why you're here," he heard Rycroft say.

He reopened them and looked at the psychiatrist. "You're here." There was a touch of hostility in his voice.

"Of course I am. I have to see how this will affect my work with you, don't I? What do I care if you don't like it?"

"Thanks for the concern."

He pulled himself upright, giving both of them a look in case they tried to stop him again. Five leads had been attached to his chest. He looked down at them in disbelief and then began snatching them off. "What do I need these for if I had a seizure? They're in the wrong place, if you hadn't noticed," he snarled at the two of them.

"There was some venticular fibrillation after and during your fit. I wanted to be sure it didn't get out of hand," Keets said.

"What?" Spencer thought about this for a minute. He pulled the last two off his chest and slid off the gurney. "Where are my clothes?"

Keets handed them to him and left the room.

"What about you," he asked, looking expectantly at Rycroft.

"You're suicidal, do you really think I'm going to leave you alone after this new information?"

Spencer rolled his eyes and crossed the room to where there was a privacy curtain and pulled it around. He began to shed the hospital gown they had covered him with and put his pants back on.

"You know, it's understandable that you're feeling overwhelmed by all of this," Rycroft said, his voice now all full of concern. "Tests show a considerable amount of scar tissue on your heart, which is almost unheard of in a man barely turned thirty."

He pulled his sweater over his head.

"They tell me that following the explosion you arrived at the emergency room with the second of two consecutive myocardial infarctions. Hell, I'm more than twice your age and I haven't even had one in my life, let alone two back to back."

"I don't remember that."

"Dissociative amnesia?"

"Actually, I was unconcious most of the time. Being shuttled from one surgery to another. When I finally woke up Garcia told me I had been out for four days but I later figured out that wasn't true. It was Tuesday morning but of the second week following."

"I have your transcripts in my file." A pause. "You know, Dr. Reid, you're the one dragging this out. I'm only trying to help you but as long as you resist there's not much I can do."


	6. Chapter 6

"They keep pestering me about it. I'm still not ready to talk. I wish they would realize that and back off."

"Maybe it's not that you don't want to so much as you don't want to talk to them about it," Bree suggested.

Spencer shrugged and thought about it for a few minutes. "Maybe..."

"Because they keep pressuring you? It should be your decision not theirs."

He gave her a look. "How old are you again? You don't talk like a sixteen year old."

"Did you?"

"Good point. I guess you could be right..."

"Why not tell me?"

He looked at her uncertainly.

"I mean, I just wonder how someone like you ends up in here. What happened to bring it around."

He was silent for awhile and then started to tell his story. "The shockwave broke my collarbone, breastbone and three ribs. It also caused blunt force trauma to the liver which started to bleed out. I was thrown up against a car by the blast, causing whiplash which pulled the muscles at the back of my neck. Also, the back of my head hit the car door causing a fracture where my skull and spine meet. Flying debris penetrated my chest and head. My lungs were damaged and blood and air escaped into my chest cavity. They collapsed and the level of oxygen in my blood dropped but I was also bleeding out from the liver and an artery in my brain. So I went into shock from blood loss. All of this together caused a strain on my heart, which hadn't been hurt initially was struggling now. I had a heart attack and flatlined. They resusciatated me but within a few minutes I had another one but this time they were able to keep me from flatlining again."

"My god," Bree said, looking horrified.

"When I got to the hospital, they performed emergency surgery repairing my damaged lungs and liver and stopped the bleeding. But it wasn't over. They propped my head up on a few pillows, because that's all that really can be done with that kind of skull fracture, and stuck me in the ICU. My doctors told me I woke up and was communicating with them clearly. I don't remember that but being followed by a rapid loss of conciousness is a classic symptom of head trauma. Immediatly after, I had my first seizure, a grand mal that went on and on for nearly twenty minutes, before they were able to control it. Now they knew about the bleeding in my brain, and sent me off to surgery again. There was also an early infection of meningitis, common in those situations."

"Wow, that was horrible. I can't imagine..."

"So alot of people tell me."

Bree started to say something else but her attention was caught by the arrival of two men. "Oh, your friends are here," she told him.

He looked around to see Hotch and Gideon.

"I'll just go. I don't want to intrude," she said, gathering her things and walking away. She paused in the hallway to listen to what was said.

"How are you feeling," Hotch asked.

Spencer shrugged. "It's not exactly one of my better days."

"That's going to happen every so often," Gideon told him.

"Somedays I hate being here. I barely want to leave my room. But what good will that do me?"

"That's a good question."

Spencer looked at Hotch. "You were in the ambulance with me. I remember that now."

The other nodded. "I left you to get JJ to where she could get help. I wasn't going to do that again."

"You shouldn't have been there."

"No?" Hotch raised an eyebrow.

"You shouldn't have seen that."

"I didn't want you to be alone in there."

"You see enough people die."

"I was responsible for you."

Spencer started to say something else but Hotch cut him off. "Reid, if the situation was reversed, would you have left me or any of the others alone?"

He didn't answer.

"Then stop arguing with me. I wasn't going to dismiss you, not then and not now." After a few minutes went by, Hotch produced a manilla folder. "There's a case in D.C. Serial arsonist. Victims, however, have all died of unrelated causes. Whenever, there is a female involved they are raped, no matter the age."

"I don't think-"

Hotch paused and looked at him. "What? There's nothing that says I can't use you as a consultant."

"Yeah but I'm not exactly...I shouldn't be doing this."

"Why not?"

"I don't think I'm cut out for it anymore."

"I could use your help on this."

"I don't know."

Hotch looked at him. After a minute, he shrugged and put the file away. "If you can't do it, you can't do it. I don't want to run out but it does require attention. I'll be back when it's behind us."

Spencer watched him go. "He's angry with me."

"No, I doubt that. It's a pressing case. Time is of the essence. That's all."

"I've lost my nerve."

"That's not true."

"It is. I've let everyone down. Especially those people. I can't help him."

"I'm sure he understands."

"Even if I could it won't make a difference."

"What do you mean?"

"There's always going to be another case. Another series of murders. We aren't actually helping anyone."

"There are entire families that won't become victims because of what you do."

"Did. What I did," Spencer corrected. "Besides those people won't ever know."

"But isn't that the point?"

Bree sighed and made up her mind to go back to her room. She shouldn't have been listening, she knew. Too private. He would be angry if he found out.


	7. Chapter 7

"Dr. Spencer Reid," a man drawled from across the room.

Spencer looked up at the sound of his name. He took one look at the man staring at him and sighed wearily. Karl Vanson. A sociopath that had killed fifteen people before they had caught up with him. Surely no good could come of this.

"Cracked up, ain't you," came the taunt.

"Don't listen to him," Bree insisted.

What were the odds of the two of them ending up in the same hospital? The statistics escaped him just now.

Vanson made no move. currently satisfied merely to gloat. "This is priceless. The man who put me away, locked in here with me."

"You should be in prison."

"But I'm not," Vanson said smugly. He stood up suddenly, the metal rungs of his seat shrieking against the floor. He began to walk slowly towards them.

Spencer didn't meet his gaze, just watched him come close out of the corner of his eye. He raised a hand to the side of his face and sighed again.

"This is beautiful, I never would've imagined. For all your inflated hubris, you're no better than me," Vanson wheedled, sounding amused.

"I'm nothing like you. You're a murderer who-"

"You killed people too!"

Spencer hesitated. "They were monsters."

"So were mine. Liars and thieves. Slanderers."

"They were killers and psychopaths just like you!"

Vanson grinned. "That makes it all right then?They had families too, you know. Tell me do you see their faces when you close your eyes to sleep?"

_All the time. _"I held a position of authority. I had the right to use force and sometimes it was necessary."

Vanson put a hand to his ear. "What's that? You used to...not anymore, mi amigo." He chuckled. "Your friends at the BAU put yoiu away didn't they? What happened? Their boy genius crack under the pressure?"

Spencer said nothing but turned paler still. _That's more or less the truth anyway._

Vanson laughed again.

"That's enough," a female voice, rang out with authority.

All three of them turned. A woman stood a few feet away watching them. Obviously, one of the doctors and not a resident, as she wore the traditional white coat. Spencer considered this for a moment. Maybe it didn't matter, a resident could have stolen the coat and be playing out a fantasy. He had seen crazier things since being holed up in here.

"Mr. Vanson, you're out of line. And how did you even get here? You belong in Ward C."

He smirked at her. "Not my fault if the hired help are sloppy."

She fixed him in a level gaze which wiped the smirk from his face. And then she snapped her fingers. One of the interns who had been chatting up a couple of residents jumped at the sound. She berated the poor kid, "How incompetent can you be? You were in here with this going on and you just stand over there like a imbecile letting it happen...take this man back where he belongs. And don't sweat this, everyone makes mistakes, tommorrow you won't be coming back to make another."

The intern hastened over to Vanson and reached for his arm. Vanson gave the boy a chilly glare stopping him in the act. But he suffered himself to be led away, leering at Spencer as this happened.

Once they were out of sight the authoritarian image dissolved. She let out a sigh of relief. Now, he almost recognized her.

"Dr. Reid, are you alright," she asked, her face touched with concern.

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"D.C. Four years ago. Nathan Harris was my first real client after getting my doctorate. So his case was kind of special to me. And I remember that you kept coming by to check on him. Until, of course he was processed from the general hospital into another facility like this one."

"Oh yeah...I've kept tabs as much as I can but mostly they wouldn't let me speak with him."

"Last I heard, he's taken up photography," she told him.

He nodded glad to know that the boy was improving somewhat. "But I forgot you're name."

She laughed. "Glad to know I made an impression," she laughed and he grinned sheepishly. "Well, officially its Dr. Jakobsdatter," she said, grimacing at her own name. "But I let people call me Winnie."

"Than I'm Spencer," he told her.

She tilted her head slightly and gave him a small smile. "Fair enough."


	8. Chapter 8

_The jolt of defibrillation awakened his sluggish nerves. He sucked in a sharp breath and nearly choked on it. He let his head loll from side to side, moaning hoarsely, as he did so. He caught a glimpse of himself off of a reflective surface. Blood caked his chin and the left side of his face. He turned away from the image. __He closed his eyes as someone slid oxygen lines into his nose. He swallowed and opened them again. _

_Hotch was now in his line of sight, looking whey-faced and a touch frightened. He looked away again. If Hotch was afraid than he definetly ought to be. Pain lanced up his arm. He clenched his jaw at the pain and thought 'Myocardial infraction,' like it were a minor matter. The medics increased their movements. He looked back at Hotch, who was the only thing in here that wasn't moving, something for him to focus on. _

Spencer walked the length of the perimeter fence. He wished these things would stay forgotten, that they would stop clawing their way to the surface at the worst possible moments. He reflected on this and decided that no moment was right for the memories. He sighed and looked out past the fence.

An older woman was walking her dog on the other side of the street. He stopped to watch her, trying to reminding himself that there was a whole world on the outside and that one day if he was lucky he could go back to it.

After awhile she caught him watching her. She raised her hand and for a moment he thought she was going to wave and so he raised his hand as well. But she just crossed herself and turned her back, dragging the little dog as she moved away. He frowned and sighed again and went on his way.

* * *

"My medication isn't working as well," he told Rycroft.

The doctor nodded. "So I've noticed. I was wondering when you would come to discuss it with me. Longer than expected."

"Why didn't you increase the dose than?"

"Because, Dr. Reid, I assesed early on that in your particular case that if I made every single decision for you that it would be detrimental to your recovery. I'm allowing you the freedom to make some of them for yourself."

"Oh...But I'm not sure if I want to do it. I mean if it doesn't work after you increase it, are we going to have to increase it again?"

"Anti-psychotics are not habit-forming, if that's what you're getting at."

"Its just that...well...I've already proven that I can't be trusted regarding this things."

"There's no risk of dependency," Rycroft elaborated.

Spencer nodded. "Okay."

"Would you like me to increase your dosage?"

"Please."

There was a knock on the door and before being invited in, a nurse came inside the room.

"How very rude of you," Rycroft commented. "I was in the middle of having a discussion with Dr. Reid."

She looked slightly mortified but went on ahead. "You actually called me. I start Monday and was supposed to have a tour of the facility at noon."

"In which case, you are late. And I am busy. Dr. Reid, would you mind taking care of that for me?"

"Me? But I don't think..."

Rycroft didn't look at him. "There's no need for that. I'm sure you can handle it." He waved the two of them off.

Once out in the hallway, she introduced herself. "I'm Lucy Calloway."

"Spencer Reid," he said, leaving out the honorific.

She began to walk and so he followed. "How long have you been with Dr. Rycroft?"

He cleared his throat and looked extremely nervous. "A little over a month."

She nodded. "And what exactly is your position on the staff here?"

He stopped short and glanced back at Rycroft's office. "Maybe we should find someone else to do this. I'm sure there's another nurse or someone."

She gave him a bemused look. "What's wrong?"

He started to double back and mumbled, "I'll just..."

"Dr. Reid," she called, sounding confused.

He stopped again but didn't turn to face her. "I'm not on the staff. I'm a...I'm a patient here," he told her.

"Oh," she said softly.

"I'll just go," he said and he hurried off in the other direction.

After a minute Lucy went back to Rycroft's office. She had hardly gotten inside when he asked her, "What happened? Why are you alone?"

"Dr. Reid is a resident?"

He ignored her question. "Why aren't you with him?"

"Oh, he got nervous and left."

He sighed and wiped his forehead. "Well, that's too bad. I assumed it would be good for his morale. Well, thank you by the way. You handled that abysmally. It may have been a mistake, my hiring you."

What could she say to that?

"Yes, Dr. Reid is a patient under my care. I make an effort to make each of my patients feel like they are the only one I have, you should know. Can you tell me how I'm supposed to do that if you barge in my office while I am meeting with one of them?" He looked at her waiting for an answer.

"Oh...I'm not sure," she mumbled.

He scrutinized her for along moment. "You better be glad that I think everyone is entitled to a second chance. And yes, he's one of the more lucid residents, though he is given to delusions. He will discuss in length his credentials, various doctorates and his employ with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis to anyone who will listen. In the event that he should discuss it with you, you will listen and try not to sound condescending. These things are verifiable and present in his files."

He surveyed her over the tops of his spectacles. "Nearly a year ago, he sustained some pretty horrific injuries and that incident has led to a mild psychotic break. He struggles with alternating delusions of persecution, inadequacy and guilt. But at the same time he's aware of his condition and tries to believe that he can somehow temper it himself. Of course, this is impossible and causes frustration and anxiety at this imagined failure. His case is somewhat typical of what you will see on Ward B, where he resides. That is generally where the patients that are most likely to harm themselves rather than others live."

He waved her off again. "I told you I was busy. If Dr. Reid won't show you around then find someone who will. This is not my problem. If you had showed up on time I would be more than glad, but it seems you are incompetent on many levels. Now go."


	9. Chapter 9

"You haven't come by before." Spencer couldn't keep the faint accusation out of his voice. He flushed with embarrassment and added, apologetically, "I mean, I know you guys have had a lot of work, as usual."

But Morgan cut him off. "Hey, no it's alright. You're right. I should've been here sooner. I just felt so guilty over what happened."

"You guys were trying to help me._ Are_."

"I quit the BAU."

"What? No! Morgan..."

"Well, not really. Not yet," but he seemed unhappy. "It just wasn't right."

"It was right. Morgan, really, this is where I should be."

But Morgan shook his head. "You say that because you don't get it. You don't understand. They barely mention you. It's like you're the dirty little secret."

"You're exaggerating."

"Am I? Miss Rivas is there to stay apparently. I mean, I like her well enough and it's certainly not her fault. But she is what she is."

"My replacement?"

Morgan nodded. He shrugged. "I've been using vacation time, sick days, right and left. I just can't seem to care anymore. I've lost my drive. My ambition. My heart isn't in it any more." He shrugged again.

Spencer looked at him, feeling guilty. "I'm sorry."

Morgan frowned. "Not your fault, kid. Its the rest of them. Except for Garcia. She's the only one decent enough...and she hates Rivas, by proxy. Her self-proclaimed homage to you," Morgan said, smiling for the first time.

Spencer returned it. "Tell her its appreciated but she should accept Rivas as part of the team now. And I'm glad that you're concerned but really you shouldn't let it get to you like that. The world can't wait for Spencer Reid. And neither can the BAU."

Morgan stared at him blankly. "You're saying I'm wrong?"

No, Spencer amended quickly. "I'm saying that... By the way, have you heard anything from Georgia?"

Morgan looked dubious at the change of subject, but allowed it. "I figured you would before any of the rest of us. I guess you were right about her. She had a job to do and when she was done it was time to move on."

Now Spencer was the one looking doubtful. "Something's not right with that though. I would have expected a phone call or for her to have a consultation with Dr. Rycroft at least. Or maybe with Winnie."

Morgan raised an eyebrow. "Winnie?"

Reid shrugged. "She's one of the psychologists here."

Morgan was on the verge of smirking. "And you call her Winnie?"

"Morgan, what are you getting at?"

But the other agent just grinned and shook his head.

"I should really try to get ahold of her. Georgia, I mean. Catch up with her. She has an older sister, lives in Quebec. Dana Whitcomb, she runs some kind of government subsidiary. All very conspiratorial if you go for that kind of thing. But you know how the government is. It could be a matter of landscaping and they would want to be secretive about it."

"Wow, you _do_ sound paranoid," Morgan said, almost without thinking.

But Spencer let it pass. "Maybe...but Georgia still has no clue what her sister does."

"Maybe you should have Winnie take you to go see her," Morgan said, before he could stop himself.

But his meaning was lost on Spencer. "It doesn't work like that. Any special trips outside have to be sanctioned by Rycroft."

Morgan sighed and laughed a little. "At least you haven't changed in that way."

"What do you mean?"

But Morgan just smiled and shook his head.


End file.
